


Kiss with a Fist (Better than none)

by OurLadyofPerpetualWallflowers



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove's terrible mental state, Canon-Typical Violence, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Pre-Slash, reposted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:57:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OurLadyofPerpetualWallflowers/pseuds/OurLadyofPerpetualWallflowers
Summary: Enemies is just another word for more than friends anyway.





	Kiss with a Fist (Better than none)

**Author's Note:**

> Old work from tumblr, archived for safekeeping.

Billy sees him across a crowded room and at that moment, he’s damned. Billy’s always had a thing for pretty boys. For lean strength and square jaws. And though he’s never noticed it before, must have missed it among California’s bleached blonde tans, he must have a thing for dark eyes and pale skin too, because when he draws near to Steve, he’s struck speechless by the rush of sheer goddamn want that takes control of him.

Gym is a game in more ways than one. Billy can’t get a lock on Steve. Catches him glancing over Billy’s bare chest, sees him keep licking his fucking lips like he’s in a desert somewhere. Billy plays right back, gets in his space, slams his body against him like Steve’s the only one on the whole court.

He can smell the sweat on Steve, feel the heat coming off of him, and it sends a thrill up his spine and a tremor through his heart. He has to know for sure. If Steve’s queer, if Billy needs to be extra careful not to give himself away. One more mistake and he’s bound for the army, where he knows it’ll be twenty times worse than anything at home.

The showers are torture. Steve takes the stall right next to him, and Billy wants to write his name across his skin between the moles that dot his entire body. He throws out some lines, slips up, has to touch. His hand trembles from where it met Steve’s bare flesh. He keeps it locked in a fist the rest of the day.

He avoids Harrington like the plague until suddenly there he is, hands on his hips like Billy’s late coming home from work and Steve’s about to ask him 'what sort of time does he call this'?

It burns inside him, the sick parody of a happy little life that will never in a million years happen because one of them wasn’t lucky enough to have a pussy instead and then Steve has the nerve to lie to him, again, about Max, and something in Billy bares its teeth in a grin. If he can’t have what he wants, he’ll take everything he can get. Enemies is just another word for more than friends anyway.

He loses track a little of what’s going on, after seeing that kid and Max, seeing the easy way they attract each other and all the little ways they’re fooling exactly nobody. They don’t have to hide it, don’t have to pretend, don’t have to wonder if they’ll get each other killed one day, and it’s not fucking fair.

Then Steve’s pushing Billy back with just his fingertips and Billy lets him. Leans back away from those two points of warm flesh and it’s like time slows for a moment. A part of him wants to lean back in, wants to chase that warmth like it’s the sun.

But he can’t. He’s walked that road. Seen how that story ends. So he takes a breath and lets it go. Reaches behind him and smashes a plate over that dark hair, slams his knuckles into that pale skin like a kiss, bruises blooming like he’s written his name on Steve’s body. It’s better than nothing.


End file.
